


Close Enough To Get Burned

by painted_lady12



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Clubbing, Denial, Drinking, Healing, Infidelity, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Post-Canon, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recovery, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Supportive Phichit Chulanont, Supportive Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-02-01 05:10:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12698034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painted_lady12/pseuds/painted_lady12
Summary: Yuuri and Viktor return to Japan for a week to see the Katsuki family.  Yuuri meets up with a female skater friend, and has a fun night.  Until it all goes to shitPLEASE LOOK AT WARNINGS





	1. Just Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hello there. So bits of this was written for a scene in "Silver Devils Play" but I realized it didn't fit the story. This was a different story fighting to get out. So I further developed/changed it.
> 
> Sexual assault comes in all shapes and sizes. For some it's less clear-cut than others. For those people, that can be where the pain lies. It hides in the ambiguity and the "it could have been worse". Please note that I will not tolerate any form of victim blaming or minimizing. If you have any of that to say, keep it to yourself.
> 
> I'm thinking that this will end up being only three or four chapters?
> 
> Timeline for reference: this is after Worlds where both Viktor and Yuuri compete, engaged. AKA a few months post canon. Yuuri gets homesick so they visit the onsen. A friend from female singles in Japan (original character) hits him up to meet her out. That is all. Any other questions- either comment here or HMU on twitter (painted_lady12) or tumblr (painted-lady12). ALSO: Other YOI characters will make appearances, don't you worry
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: please mind the tags. Don't continue if this fic makes you feel some type of way. I just... needed to write it. If you begin to feel like shit while reading, please stop reading and reach out to a loved one. Make a peanut butter chocolate mug cake. They make 97% of things better. The other 3% are problems that are related to hating chocolate and/or peanut butter

Yuuri could very distinctly remember the first self destructive thing he’d ever done.

 

Quite literally, he was playing with fire.  There was a lit candle in the family room, and his parents and sister were tending to guests.  He had been feeling… lost, like he was drifting in a sea of uncertainty; unmoored and shaky.  

 

The flame looked so beautiful.  It flickered and burst and snapped, the wax slowly pooling around it, getting all bent out of shape from being so close.

 

Possessed, Yuuri had dropped to his knees in front of the candle, his mind a chaotic mess, but… while looking at the fire, everything else fell away.

 

If fire melted wax, what does it do to skin?

 

Yuuri knew, logically, that his skin wouldn’t melt like wax, but the idea stuck in his mind, and the repetitive insecurities were suddenly replaced with this one, singular thought: what would it feel like to touch it?

 

His chaotic thoughts had distilled down to this one action, and how could he not, when everything inside him was screaming for him to just… go.

 

It started as brushing his fingers quickly over the fire; he barely felt it at all, just the rapid flickering of the flame with the air flow.  Then, his fingers started moving slower, until finally a white hot pain sent him flying back, a light red spot on his skin throbbing.

 

Mechanically, he got up.  Instead of _no one likes me_ his brain was stuck on _burn get a first aid kit treat it make it better._

 

After he finished wrapping up the burn, a tiny collection of blisters forming on two of his fingers, his mother found him, looking particularly calm and cheery.

 

“You were very nervous about school tomorrow, sweetie.  Are you feeling better?”

 

“Yeah,” Yuuri piped up, fingering the bandages, his own little secret.

 

That’s something very few people talk about.  The aftercare of self harm was just as methodological and cathartic as the act itself.  When your brain can’t function, it helps to give it short, clear directives.  Go cut yourself.  Clean up the cuts.  Take care to bandage the skin so it doesn’t scar as badly.  

 

Yuuri learned this fact and clutched it close to his chest.

 

When his mother had asked about the fingers, Yuuri just shrugged.  “Cooking.”

 

He hadn’t been cooking.  Instead, he had been playing with fire, because he’d wanted to get burned.

  


***

  


Yuuri stood on the street.  He was dressed nicely, considering how quickly he’d run out of the house.  He’d slicked his hair back and everything.

 

The club was pounding music, and Yuuri watched the groups of people giggle their way in, and took a deep, steadying breath.

 

_This is what normal people your age do, Yuuri.  They go out and have fun.  You’ve heard of fun, haven’t you?_

 

It's what his friends were saying, anymore.  Ever since him and Viktor got engaged they'd been staying at home and being lazy.  Apparently he didn't know how to enjoy himself, anymore. 

 

He got past the bouncer with ease, flashing a smile.  There were quite a few people who recognized him, and he skipped right past the line.

 

This club hung in dark black tones and neon lights flashing and spiraling around.  It was ten, so there was already a decent amount of people there.  

 

Yuuri went to go grab himself a drink, looking around carefully.  It was just like a fraternity party in college, only the drinks cost money and there was a much more even ratio of guys to girls.

 

Holding the drink and stirring the gin and tonic, Yuuri felt his nerves start to settle.

 

_Relax, Yuuri.  Have fun, for once._

 

A hand appeared out of nowhere, and Yuuri jumped back but was surprised to find…

 

“Itsuko?” Yuuri gasped, a smile splitting his face as he took in the girl before him.

 

A friend from the JSF; the female skater who had asked Yuuri to meet her out.  

 

Itsuko was short and fierce, and her hair fell in a sheet down her back, make-up done in flashy metallic designs on her cheek.  She was gesturing to a small group of people with her.

 

“Yuuri!  It’s so nice to see you.  I’m so glad I caught you the week you were visiting Japan with your delicious fiance.  Where is he, anyway?”

 

Yuuri smiled affectionately.  “He’s a little jet-lagged and has been passed out most of the day.  I told my mom to tell him where I went when he emerges.”

 

Itsuko nodded knowingly.  “These are my friends who live in the area.  Kazumi, Miku, and Hiroto.  Guys, this is Yuuri!  He’s a men’s singles skater!”

 

They all looked excited suddenly, and the one names Miku, who was a very tall and giddy person, gushed, “Can we get a picture of you two?”

 

Itsuko was one of the top female skaters in Japan, so a picture of the two of them would probably shoot up in popularity very fast.

 

They posed together after Yuuri had downed his drink in one go, flashing the peace sign and smiling.

 

_See, this is what normal adults do.  You wouldn’t have gotten to see your friend if you’d stayed in your room._

  


Itsuko smiled brilliantly, holding up her glass in a toast.  “To enjoying ourselves.”

 

Yuuri had another drink in his hand as he was speaking with Itsuko’s friends, who were all extremely nice and eventually, after the fourth drink, they invited Yuuri out onto the dance floor with them.

 

The fifth drink was clutched firmly in his hand as he watched them all dance.  He stood on the edge of the dance floor, on the precipice of normal.

 

_It’s right there, Yuuri.  Go get it._

 

Before Yuuri knew it, he was in the middle of the dance floor, challenging people to dance offs, and laughing and dancing with Itsuko and her friends.  

 

_Everyone here is so friendly.  This is… this is nice._

 

When some American songs came on, the dancing got a bit… tighter.  Yuuri was very quickly grinding with Itsuko, laughing and singing along.  Everyone was laughing and touching each other, singing along in terribly drunk English and Yuuri was... happy.

 

That was when he felt hands come up from behind him.

 

Yuuri thought nothing of it; it was probably one of Itsuko’s friends, or the people he had become friendly with, until fingers brushed over his belly, and it felt nice for a second, reminding him of how Viktor teases him, sometimes.  He gasped unthinkingly, before warning signs started going off in his head as the hand ventured further down… gasping, Yuuri jumped away, wobbling a little on the floor.  He hadn’t noticed what was happening until it was already too late.  

 

Images started flashing instead of flowing by smoothly; time itself was just a collection of snapshots.  Someone got him water, Itsuko asked if he was alright, but everything was fine, wasn’t it?  It’s all just pictures…

 

At some point he felt fingers grab at him, and he pulled away reflexively, suddenly seeing Viktor standing there, looking hurt and disheveled.

 

“You… what are you doing here?” Yuuri accused.

 

Itsuko stepped between them.  “Viktor, I presume?”

 

Viktor nodded, looking annoyed.  “Who are you?”  


 

“She’s a friend,” Yuuri defended quickly.  Wait, when had things stopped playing out in pictures?  When did time start moving so cleanly again?

 

Why did it feel like something was wrong, deep down inside of him?  Why… why did he feel so empty?

 

Yuuri hugged Itsuko quickly.  “It’s alright, it’s just Viktor...”  


 

Viktor looked dashing as always, and Yuuri took a moment to check him out, admiring the tightness of his outfit.

 

Yuuri was wobbling a little, and Viktor caught him.  “Do you want to talk outside, Yuuri?  You seem to have had quite a few drinks…”

 

Yuuri nodded, and Istuko caught Yuuri’s arm before they went off.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay, Yuuri-kun?”

 

He nodded, and lost his balance, clinging to Viktor and giggling, because when did Viktor get so strong?

 

Viktor softened up then, thanking Itsuko.  “ _Arigatou gozaimasu.”_

 

She nodded.  “See you later, Yuuri.”

 

Nodding, Yuuri felt himself being led off the dance floor, and Viktor asked, “Is she the skater friend?”

 

“Yeah!” Yuuri answered loudly, but his voice sounded dead.

 

“I see.  You wanted to meet up with her and have some fun.  I just don’t get why you wouldn’t ask me to come with you?  I was worried.  I had to track your phone.”

 

“You were so tired…”

 

_Blisters…_

 

Someone shoved Yuuri from the side, and Viktor stumbled a little, catching Yuuri and swinging around to get between Yuuri and the person in question.

 

The guy who shoved Yuuri was _massive,_ with angry eyes and at least five inches on Viktor.  His hair was chopped really short, and his shoulders were broad and intimidating.  His hands were huge too.  Why was Yuuri thinking about his hands?

 

Those hands were like fire.

 

_Danger_

 

It’s like someone got burned…

 

Viktor and Yuuri were both strong, no doubt, but they were also built for speed and agility; they weren’t much good in a fight except for to run.

 

“Why did you shove him?” Viktor demanded in English, holding onto Yuuri’s hand tightly, but Yuuri was pulling away, wanting to run, but not sure why…

 

“Oi, you should keep your slut boyfriend on a tighter leash.  I’m afraid he’s spoiled goods for the night.”

 

The words _hurt._  Yuuri was barely listening but they hurt him so deeply, dug into his skin like razor wire…

 

_Razor wire feels good, when you’re looking to feel pain._

 

_I’m not looking to feel pain, though…_

 

Yuuri couldn’t see Viktor’s face, but the Russian had seized up, fingers tightening on Yuuri’s hand.  “What did you do?” he demanded of the taller man, seemingly forgetting the size difference...

 

The other guy laughed at Yuuri trying to run off.  “Just look at him, trying to get away like he wasn’t begging for it, the way he was moving those hips…”

 

A punch came from somewhere else; Hiroto and Kazumi.  Hiroto yelled at Viktor and Yuuri to run, and Itsuko had them both by the hand, dragging them out.  Yuuri had closed his eyes, not sure why it was so hard for them to run when…

 

Itsuko was yelling loudly in Japanese, and suddenly they were out front, and Hiroto was holding Viktor back, keeping him from running back inside.

 

“Let me go!” Viktor roared, shaking and pulling, his hair messed up.  Then, he started cursing in Russian, and Hiroto started conversing with him in quiet English as Yuuri felt a soft hand on his forehead.

 

“Are you alright, Yuuri-kun?” Istuko asked, face dark.

 

Why wouldn’t everything be alright?  “Of course,” Yuuri said automatically, surprising everyone with his calmness.

 

“Are you sure?” Miku looked disturbed, clutching her bag tightly.  “You were screaming just a few moment ago.  You were running to get out of that club.”

 

Yuuri suddenly felt a tentative hand brush his fingers, and Viktor was in front of Yuuri suddenly, his eyes full of…

 

“No,” Yuuri whispered, because pity was for people who were hurt, for people who deserved it.

 

_I played with fire.  I got burned.  Wait… I got burned?  What happened?_

 

It was a lot of silence after that.  Getting into a cab, getting back to the onsen.  Itsuko helped Viktor get Yuuri safely to Viktor’s huge bed.  Then they’d laid Yuuri down, the room spinning, and had a quiet conversation in the doorway.

 

Yuuri covered his ears, desperate not to hear.  They were talking about him, weren’t they?  They were talking about…

 

Eventually someone sat down on bed near him, and Yuuri felt fingers brush his face.  Tears formed in his eyes.  “Viktor, I…”

 

“Shhh, I just… I need to know.  Itsuko didn’t see anything, but what that man said…”

 

Yuuri groaned, flinching away from Viktor’s touch.  “I… it’s not a big deal.  I’d done more at parties in college, it was just…”

 

“Just what?” Viktor asked, voice strained.  “Just a sexual assault?”

 

The words were wrong, somehow, like they were too big to fit in the box Yuuri had already tucked all of these memories.  “No, he just… I didn’t want it.”

 

A quiet sob ripped out of Viktor.  “You… he touched you?”

 

“I got away, though.  He didn’t… it’s not like he raped me.”

 

One second.

 

Two seconds.

 

Viktor got up off the bed, and Yuuri heard him go into the bathroom.  There was a loud bang, and then water running, and Viktor came back and kneeled on the bed next to Yuuri.

 

“Come on, love, get washed up.  I think it was just a bad night.”

 

Nodding, Yuuri accepted that they were done talking about it.   _He wasn’t getting it, anyway._

 

His fingers and toes were numb.  He didn’t think anything of it.  Viktor gently removed Yuuri’s  shirt, but Yuuri quickly stopped him, sending him away.

 

Gently, by himself with Viktor just outside the door sitting against the wall, Yuuri removed his clothes.

 

There was a bruise on his left arm, where he’d run into them trying to get Viktor’s attention.  There were nail marks on his pelvis, just above his underwear line, angry red scratches.

 

_Playing with fire._

 

_Playing with fire._

 

_Playing with fire._

 

Yuuri stepped into the hot water and scrubbed himself clean, shaking as he winced at the pain.  At some point, he’d started hyperventilating, looking around for something, anything…

 

At some point Viktor tried to come in but Yuuri had yelled at him not to, still drunk and still sore, body screaming in protest, sore and tired and...

 

Eventually, he sunk down to the floor, fingernails digging into his thighs and dragging up, coughing and suddenly feeling a white hot peace swell up inside of him from the pain, and the crying he was doing stopped abruptly.

 

Viktor came in without knocking now, seeing Yuuri scratching his thighs and grabbing for his hands roughly, kneeling in front of Yuuri, uncertain.

 

“Yuuri, baby?  Yuuri, you were hurting yourself…”

 

“I know,” Yuuri responded calmly, focusing on the burning of his skin where he’d already left his own angry red scratches, not dissimilar to the ones given to him earlier that night.

 

Viktor’s hands tightened on Yuuri’s.  “Talk to me, Yuuri.  What’s going on in your head?”

 

Not making eye contact, Yuuri whispered, “I was playing with fire.  I got burned.”

 

Yuuri was pulled against Viktor suddenly.  Viktor leaned against the bathroom wall, cradling Yuuri between his legs, hugging him tightly.  “Shh, no, Yuuri, this isn’t your fault.”

 

“How do you know?” Yuuri asked quietly, feeling completely empty.

 

“I know.  Itsuko knows.  She said that you got away so quickly that he couldn’t find you until we were walking out.  You weren’t asking for anything, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri shook his head.  “Why do I feel so blank?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Why… why does it hurt so much?”

 

“I don’t know.”


	2. Enough of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Viktor deal with the aftermath of the assault. Phichit comes to town to support his friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! 
> 
> This fic is probably going to update pretty slowly, as you could imagine. I've planned five chapters. 
> 
> Some notes on the assault: there is a scene in this chapter that flashes back to what happened to Yuuri. It clears up some confusion but also invites in some new concerns.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING*** discussions of self harm and sexual assault. If this fic makes you feel some type of way, reach out to someone you trust. Then, poke them in the nose. Then, tell them those parts of your story that hide in the corners of your mind. Let your words unfurl like a burning piece of paper, and let the pain dissipate like the smoke in the air after it is done.

The next morning, while Yuuri laid down in the bed, having not gone to sleep, Viktor was on the phone with Christophe, who was listening to the story without providing much input. If Yuuri was listening in to their conversation, he chose to remain silent.

“About what happened to him…”

Chris sighed. “There isn’t anything you can do, really, legally. The only evidence that might exist is the skin underneath his attacker’s fingernails, but he’s probably already scrubbed himself clean. If this were a traditional assault it’d be easier.”

Viktor bristled at that. “How dare you…”

Christophe quickly backpedaled. “Viktor, of course I wouldn’t want that to actually happen to Yuuri. I’m commenting on the system, not on the validity of Yuuri’s distress.”

Viktor felt a hand brush his; Yuuri was looking up at Viktor with dead eyes. The Russian felt like he was looking at a ghost.

Hanging up, Viktor leaned back onto the bed, a few feet from Yuuri. The younger man was staring at Viktor from over the tips of his own fingers.

“I just wanted to be normal for a night.”

Cringing, Viktor opened his arms as an invitation for Yuuri, who chose not to move.

“You were having fun. You were normal. This, what happened to you, isn’t because of your anxiety…”

“I hurt myself. I got myself drunk and put myself in a dangerous place. It’s my fault. I should have been smarter, stayed in, watched some TV with you…” Yuuri’s eyes misted up. “Viktor…”

The name was a plea, and Viktor crawled over to spoon Yuuri from behind, clutching him tightly, holding him to his chest.

“I didn’t want him to…”

“I know, baby.”

  
***

  
Two days later, Phichit was outside the onsen, looking around desperately trying to find Yuuri.

Viktor hugged Phichit tightly and brought him to where Yuuri was; in bed, sleeping the day away, like he’d been doing since it happened.

Phichit handed his bags to Viktor, who promised to set him up in Yuuri’s room. His best friend padded over and crawled onto the bed, careful to keep distance.

“Viktor?”

“Nope, much more handsome.”

Yuuri rolled over, eyes widening at his friend standing before him.

“Phichit…”

“Viktor called, I come. It’s after Worlds anyway. I didn’t know you’d be in Japan again for a while.”

Yuuri’s face screwed up in pain. “I… got homesick.”

Nodding, Phichit turned his phone off and smiled. “So, on my way in I saw the cutest little…”

“Save it,” Yuuri snapped, turning away from his friend. “Let’s just cut to the chase, shall we?”

“Yuuri, I don’t think we should talk about what happened. Going over events so fresh can be even more damaging…”

Grimacing, Yuuri spat, “What should we talk about, sports?”

“We can,” Phichit answered, not the least bit perturbed by Yuuri’s outburst. “We are athletes, you know.”

Yuuri burst out in a laugh, then shut it down, fingers shaking. “It’s funny, because I’ve been suffering all these years over nothing terrible happening to me. Anxiety over the stupidest little things… I’ve been just wallowing in self pity, when I was so lucky…”

“Yuuri…”

“...and, inevitably, something terrible happened to me for me to feel shitty about. Finally,” he chuckled darkly.

“Are you done?” Phichit asked coldly.

Yuuri shook his head. “Leave me alone, Phichit.”

They were silent for a while.

“I don’t even get why everyone’s making such a big deal about it.”

Phichit grimaced. He had heard Viktor describe Yuuri’s behavior following the assault over the phone, but it was another thing entirely to see him honestly believe those words.

“I’m not going to argue with you, okay? I’m just going to turn on one of the tv shows we liked in college, and sit here with you.”

Yuuri’s face remained impassive, before he turned to look at the tv at the end of his bed.

Phichit set up the show, and the two of them sat silently watching it.

  
***

  
Hands. When did those hands get here? They’re brushing over pale skin. They feel… nice? _I don’t want them there, though. Viktor is the only one who gets to…_  
  
Fingers slid below His waistline. Wait, what are they doing? Yuuri stiffened, so in shock as someone else's fingers starting massaging Yuuri's half-hard member from grinding with other people.

At first it felt good, and Yuuri almost closed his eyes, until there was a distinct wrongness that cracked the attraction, making Yuuri become sick to his stomach.

“No…”

The man’s arms were so strong. They held Yuuri’s hips in place, and Yuuri felt the man’s own cock press against his lower back, making Yuuri’s skin crawl. He whimpered, wanting to get away, not able to help the whimpers and gasps that the man was drawing out of him, even though he didn’t want it, even though he wanted to get away…

Yuuri managed to twist out of the man’s grasp, but started falling through an abyss that never ended, and now he was going to die…

...gasping, sweat dripping from his forehead, Yuuri sat up. His heart was jackhammering in his chest, the memory slipping away like a slimy fish between his fingers. The only bits that remained were the feeling of wrongness, and that his cock was at half mast.

The thought of touching himself there made himself feel physically ill. Yuuri got up and jumped into the shower, only to feel rage building up somewhere deep within him.

This was just wrong! He couldn’t even masturbate to ease the tension. Instead, he was left without any release. Banging hard on the tile, the pain shuddered through his body pleasantly, until…

His fist connected with the tile over and over. His vision had gone white, and he couldn’t see where he was hitting or what he was hitting but just that he was hitting, and screaming and… and sobs ripped out of him at some point, and when he felt arms pulling him from the shower, and his hands started to swell, he writhed. “Please don’t hurt me please I don’t…”

A soothing whisper came from next to Yuuri: Viktor. Yuuri felt like the dam had burst, and he was crying into Viktor’s shoulder, the other man fully clothed. Viktor got up and wrapped Yuuri in a towel at some point, until Yuuri’s sobs died down to an eerie and empty silence.

At that point, Viktor brought Yuuri’s hand up to inspect it.

Yuuri really hadn’t paid attention to what he was doing. His hand was swollen and he couldn’t bend any of his fingers. There was a little bit of blood trickling from two of his knuckles, and Viktor moved his fingers gently, trying to feel out if it was broken.

“You should see a doctor,” Viktor said calmly, pressing a feather-light kiss to Yuuri’s wrist, right where he could start to feel his arm again. “We talked about you showering alone, Yuuri.”

They had? Maybe it was one of the times that Viktor had sat on the end of the bed and spoke to Yuuri without Yuuri really listening. It was soothing to hear Viktor’s voice, but his words were usually sharp and clinical, anymore. He used words like psychological assistance.  Self harm. Sexual assault.

“I won’t do it again,” Yuuri mumbled, staring at the floor. The emotional outburst drained him of all his energy, and now he just felt… dead inside. Yuuri was a marionette who had his strings cut.

Viktor guided him back to the bed and cradled Yuuri’s head in his lap. “Phichit is going to stay for a few more days. I think we should try to get you out of the house. It can’t be healthy for you to be locked in here like this.”

The idea sounded… difficult. Yuuri just felt heavy. He just wanted to sleep.

When Viktor left, Yuuri heard voices outside his door. Then, silence. He fell back asleep.

  
***

  
One day later, Yuuri was with Viktor and Phichit on a walk around Hasetsu. Phichit hadn’t really gotten a chance to see the tiny town yet, and Viktor was giving him the grand tour. Yuuri commented occasionally, but overall he was hyperfocused on keeping himself in the moment with his surroundings.

That rock was where he fell trying to prove how manly he was to Yuuko.

That swingset was where he kissed his first boy.

That tree was where Yuuri carved his initials before he left for college, so that even though he wasn’t there his mark still would be.

Yuuri found himself walking behind Viktor and Phichit on the chilly April sand. His best friend and fiance hadn’t gotten too much time to hang out together, but they were chatting it up easily now, laughing and smiling.

Yuuri just wanted to go home and scratch at his arms until they were red and raw. Unfortunately, though, that kind of talk tends to hamper normal, productive conversation. The desire to self harm isn’t pleasant chit-chat.  It didn’t provide as much pleasantness as when Viktor was trying to describe the ninja house they were on their way to.

Instead, Yuuri remained silent, locked in his own head but feet moving without his input.

One, two, three. One, two, three…

It hit him like a truck, then: he wasn’t safe. He was outside, and even though the club hadn’t been in Hasetsu, there was no telling where the other man lived. He could be nearby, for all he knew. The back of his neck started to tingle, as if a thousand eyes were watching him, and Yuuri caught up to Viktor and tugged on his sleeve.

Turning around, Viktor caught sight of Yuuri’s panicked face and whispered, “It’s alright, Yuuri, you’re safe with us…”

No, Viktor couldn’t know that. Itsuko had had all those friends and the man still had managed to touch him. He wasn’t safe. His breath was starting to punch out of his lungs, his vision narrowing, his limbs tingling…

Falling to his knees, Yuuri started hyperventilating, trying to gather air in his lungs but nothing was coming and that man could be anywhere.

Viktor’s voice was coming from behind a wall of white noise. Yuuri’s hands shook and Phichit settled in behind him, rubbing his back gently. Eventually, Yuuri came back to himself, and exhaustion hit him like a wave.

Even though Phichit and Viktor were talking to him, he couldn’t process what they were saying. It was completely passing him by. Eventually he found himself back at the inn. The two of them went to talk to Hiroko and Toshiya, and Yuuri swayed by the front door, feeling his world collapse into only the thing immediately surrounding him, tunnel vision of the world. His thoughts danced across his attention more fiercely.

Then at some point he was led back to his room. That person touched his jeans as if to remove them, thought better of it, then let Yuuri sleep in them.

He didn't sleep, though.

Instead he found himself thinking about hands. Hands determine a lot about a person. What you do with your hands, whether your hands are calloused or frail, whether your fingers are dexterous or clumsy. The same hands that hold the door open for someone are the same hands that hold a baby delicately in their arms are the same hands that touch someone without their permission in a nightclub.

Yuuri wonders where else his attacker’s hands had been. Had they hurt others? Were they hands that also pushed bangs back in the early morning to kiss their child’s forehead? Are they the same hands that sort his fruit at the store? Are they the same hands that collected seashells and clutched them tight until there were imprints against tan skin?

What else does he do with those hands?

Someone opened his door and peeked in, and Yuuri looked up to see that it was Phichit.

“Hey, I'm coming in.”

Yuuri nodded and sat up. Phichit came over to the bed carefully, placing his phone down on the nightstand as he went.

“What freaked you out? While we were walking, I mean.”

It takes so much effort to lie.

“I was wondering where he was, if he lived around here. I felt like he could be watching me. It felt… unsafe. But that's idiotic, right? Why should I be worried?”

Phichit frowned, leaning back against the wall and watching Yuuri with skeptical eyes. “You need to cut yourself some slack.”

“For what? Sitting in my room wallowing for two days?”

Rolling his eyes, Phichit muttered, “stop beating yourself up for taking the time you need with this.”

Yuuri couldn't hear him, though. He was too busy looking at Phichit’s soft, skater-scarred hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an endeavor that I need to complete. I'm grateful to any and all of you who come on this journey with me. 
> 
> Here is a poem I wrote about healing after trauma:
> 
> They looked at the rose bush  
> Trimmed off the dead parts  
> Buried them while singing  
> Mourned everything  
> They were  
> Held a funeral  
> Wished for closure  
> Then let the sunshine  
> Back in  
> And watched the  
> New rosebuds Bloom


	3. Never Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri finds an odd peace, and does everything in his power to maintain it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi my loves.
> 
> This chapter wrote itself. I take no responsibility for how it came out.
> 
> Actually, the way this went was a happy surprise. Some of you might be upset, and I understand why because I would feel the same way, but everyone heals in their own ways. When you're broken, anything and everything that looks like a fix suddenly looks good.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING*** please mind the tags. This fic is going to update slowly but surely. Please reach out to loved ones if you feel some type of way.

The next day, Viktor convinced Yuuri to go with his mother to the grocery store.  They were shopping, and Yuuri was able to slip back into his old skin. His mother and him were smiling and laughing and they managed to grab ingredients for the inn for the next few days.  It was surreal, Yuuri’s mind was completely blank, able to focus on the task at hand and laugh with his mother.

 

When he got home, he felt… good.  Normal, even. Phichit managed to pin him down and asked him how he was.  Yuuri pulled Phichit excitedly towards the baths.

 

“It's weird, I felt so terrible yesterday.  It kind of feels like it was all just a bad dream,” Yuuri ducked under the water, coming up with pebbles of warm liquid dripping from his hair.

 

Phichit was smiling and laughing, cracking jokes, making small talk, and worrying.

 

They ate dinner that night, and for the first time in days Yuuri was eating with some enthusiasm, laughing with his parents.  Everything was tinged with anxiety, however; as they waited for the other shoe to drop.

 

Except, it didn’t.  Viktor, Phichit and Yuuri were watching a romantic comedy, and Mari came in with a bowl of popcorn.

 

“Here, dorks.”

 

After the movie Yuuri excused himself to sleep in his room, alone.  Once the door was closed he slid down the smooth surface, feeling like the little balloons in his chest were popping, one by one.  All the energy he’d gathered from the day seeped out of him, and tears sprang to his eyes.

 

Why did he have to ruin this?  He’d finally had a normal day, but despite this he still felt awful and couldn’t keep his mind from thinking the deep, dark thoughts.

 

Yuuri pulled a notebook out from his desk and bit his lip, deciding to write down exactly what he was thinking.   

 

_ I got hurt once, I can get hurt again. _

 

_ It’s my fault. _

 

_ I’m tainted goods now. _

 

_ What if… Viktor won’t want me anymore. _

 

It was suddenly extremely important to prove that wrong.  It was suddenly the most important thing in the world to prove that Viktor would still want him.  His whole body felt like it was vibrating at the wrong frequency, but maybe Viktor could fix that.

 

Yuuri moved quietly into the hall, tiptoeing towards the guest room that was once Viktor’s.  The Katsukis left it set-up for Yuuri and Viktor when they visited, and were careful to preserve it between stays.  

 

Not sleeping in there was… hard.  After he’d woken up from numerous nightmares, he’d moved himself to his old bedroom.  After he accidentally hit Viktor in the chest, the Russian had watched him leave silently.

 

The bed was colder without Viktor, but it was safer.

 

Yuuri knocked tentatively on the door, fingers digging into the flesh of his palms.

 

The door slid open, and Viktor stood there, his reading glasses tilted on his face and mouth slightly agape.

 

“Yuuri?  What…”

 

Yuuri silenced him with a kiss, pushing him back into the room.  He closed the door behind him, and Viktor started stuttering, “Yuuri, Yuuri what’s…”

 

“I need this, Viktor,” Yuuri whispered breathily, and suddenly Yuuri was being forcibly pushed away, and the emptiness only grew more.  A chilly sensation rolled through him, and then he was just… empty.

 

“You’re right.  I’m sorry. I… I’m just…” Yuuri felt like he should be crying, but somehow Viktor rejecting him was worse than anything he’d experienced in the last few days put together.

 

Of course Viktor wouldn’t want him.  He was spoiled goods.

 

Viktor deserved better than him, anyway.  

 

“Yuuri…” he caught his fiance’s wrist, a feather light touch that had so much weight.  “I’m sorry, stay. I just don’t want you rushing into anything that you aren’t…”

 

“I need this Viktor.  I don’t think you realize how much I want to do this.  I… I need to take some control back. I… would never do anything without your consent, but let me have this, please.”

 

Viktor pushed black hair out of Yuuri’s face, gently removing his own reading glasses.  The only light in the room, the bedside lamp, reflected back in Viktor’s eyes like so many suns.

 

“I…” Viktor bit his lip.

 

“It’s not up to you when I’m ready, Viktor.  Trust that I’m doing what I need to. Trust me to trust you.”

 

Furrowing his brow, Viktor whispered, “if you need to stop, stop.”

 

“I won’t do everything,” Yuuri whispered, hungrily nipping at Viktor’s pulse point.  This felt real, and right. This was what he needed, just to feel wanted by Viktor, to know that he wasn’t somehow ruined.

 

Yuuri pinned Viktor onto the bed, sucking and biting at his neck.  Viktor let Yuuri take his time, didn’t question when Yuuri elected to leave all of his clothes on.  Viktor whispered reverence when Yuuri removed his sleep pants and pressed sucking kisses to the base of Viktor’s half-hard erection.

 

“Oh, Yuuri,” Viktor breathed, fingers tightening on the sheets and making Yuuri smile.

 

This was what power felt like.  Having Viktor’s every gasp and whimper wrung out, having him shiver and rock and respond to each touch, to each little lick and press of lips.

 

Yuuri swallowed Viktor down harshly, hitting the back of his throat, and Viktor made a sinful noise that made warmth flow into Yuuri’s stomach.  

 

They took their time.  There wasn’t any rush; each swallow and swirl was intentional, and each one made Yuuri feel like he wa fixing something that he was sure was broken between them.  Or, maybe it wasn’t broken, but there was nothing wrong with working on the connection.

 

The orgasm was slow and hot, and when Viktor came, Yuuri swallowed him down greedily, loving the taste of Viktor on his tongue, loving knowing that even with everything that has happened, that hasn’t changed.  Yuuri can still make Viktor come, can still do for Viktor what he’d like.

 

When Yuuri came up and pressed kisses to Viktor’s chest, the Russian whispered, “Want me to take care of you?”

 

Shaking his head, Yuuri laid down tangled with Viktor.  “No, this was perfect.”

 

For the first time in days, Yuuri slept soundly in Viktor’s arms.

  
  


***

 

In fact, Yuuri slept through most of the next day.  He woke up at three in the afternoon, and Viktor started fussing over him immediately, but Yuuri reassured Viktor that last night was the most normal he’d felt since…

 

They ate and had a lovely afternoon.  For the first time, Viktor mentioned their trip back to Russia and Yuuri didn’t cringe.  In fact, he agreed that they should do so before the end of the month.

 

They cuddled and laughed.  Yuuri was riding the high from the night before, but it was starting to wane a little, and somehow the desire from Viktor was tainted because he knew.  Viktor knew what happened, and that made what he gave… wrong in some way.

 

As Yuuri helped his mother prepare dinner, he bit his lip.  That feeling that he got from Viktor had brought him more power and happiness than he had felt since the other night, and Yuuri wanted to keep that feeling going, wanted to hold onto it fast and forget about everything over and over again with the taste of someone else’s pleasure.

 

There was a game that Yuuri would play in college.  He would press his loneliness down like a flower between sheets in the book, keeping it locked forever and distilling it in a moment.  He would find someone to get off quickly with, someone to have messy sex or great sex or desperate sex with. It always made Yuuri feel like he was on top of the world for a few days.

 

He needed that feeling again, and getting Viktor off last night didn’t quite quell his thirst.

 

Everyone else fell asleep early, but Yuuri had slept more than fifteen hours, so he wasn’t tired.  Instead he left a note and found himself on the train, heading a few towns over by himself.

 

It seemed like the perfect plan.  Obviously getting Viktor off helped him feel a little better, so finding someone else, just to prove that he could be sought after, even if it was just to dance a little and feel their want would make him feel significantly better.

 

Viktor would understand, because he wanted to help Yuuri feel better, right?

 

He wouldn’t cheat on Viktor.  That would be so wrong. He already cheated without his permission, and he would never intentionally hurt Viktor like that.

 

It was like a test.  

 

A game.

 

The bar he ended up at was in full swing when he got in the door.  His first instinct was to let someone buy him a drink, and soon he was on the dance floor, pressed with people he just met but felt close to because they both knew all the words to the same songs and they giggled at the same over-the-top couples and fell into step to stumble over to the bar and take shot after shot.

 

Hands were on him again, but he wanted these hands.  These hands would prove that he wasn’t spoiled goods, that he could still be wanted when he asked for it.  Power was seeping back into his body with each sway of his hips, and their faces slid together and they were all the same and also so many strangers…

 

One of them, the one that smiled the most, took him out back and pressed biting kisses against Yuuri’s chest, and his name (he doesn’t remember) slid from Yuuri’s lips in a desperate plea, in a prayer, in a gasp of longing as for the first time in almost a week Yuuri felt turned on and actually wanted a person to touch him.

 

He suddenly whispered, “stop, stop…”

 

The man came up from where he was pressing kisses to Yuuri, eyes widening.  “What? Are you alright? Want to go back inside…”

 

He passed the test.  This man would stop.

 

A breath, a smile, a drunken skip of the beat.

 

Yuuri silenced him with a kiss.  “No, nothing’s wrong, you did exactly the right thing.”

 

The man gave Yuuri some of the best oral of his life against the brick outside of the bar.  Yuuri held his hand in his hair, the chill of the night making the cooling saliva feel amazing against his skin.  His pants were relieved, and he started crying because someone who didn’t know still wanted him. He could still be wanted.  He couldn’t be damaged goods if he didn’t know that there was any damage…

 

When Yuuri offered to reciprocate, the other man shook his head, golden… no, dark brown… hair falling into his eyes.

 

“I don’t want to press you.  You seemed a little hesitant earlier.”

 

The kindness punched Yuuri firmly in the gut, and that was how he ended up back on the train at three in the morning, hair mussed and body bitten and marked by another man.

 

He didn’t get off at his own stop.

 

The train just kept going, until daylight was slotting into the empty car, until people were sleepily piling in to go to work or home or shopping, but Yuuri didn’t get off the train.

 

He looked down at his phone, almost dead, and saw that there were dozens of missed calls and frantic texts, including a few from the people he’d been dancing with, making sure he was okay because he’d left in a rush and by himself.

 

The phone died.

 

Yuuri didn’t get off the train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry.
> 
> Next time: Yuuri is missing, and everyone scrambles to find him.
> 
> In regards to how Yuuri reacts here, though many people may find engaging in such activities unlikely after an assault, it is actually not that uncommon for assault victims to go out and re-enact their assault but with the outcome that they gain control in the situation. This can be dangerous as it puts the person at risk of being assaulted again, but still happens sometimes. Here's an article by the US department of justice which compiles research and case studies to look at how to manage victims after an assault:
> 
> http://www.evawintl.org/library/DocumentLibraryHandler.ashx?id=656
> 
> There's no wrong way to heal. The concept of a "perfect victim" who has done absolutely nothing wrong in their recovery and who does all the right things and leans on all the right people and is a little angel is something that I am attempting to dispel. Sometimes healing yourself hurts others. There's no wrong way to heal, even though Yuuri definitely shouldn't have done this.
> 
> If you like this, check out my other YOI fics! I just got over a really bad case of writer's block, so they should start updating again within the next few weeks.


	4. I've Had Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor finds Yuuri's bed empty, and tries to find him. Meanwhile, Yuuri does his best to deal with the aftermath of his decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my loves.
> 
> So this fic took a different turn that I was expecting; there will probably be closer to seven chapters. 
> 
> I very much appreciate all comments and feedback<3 
> 
> As usual, I do not own Yuri! on Ice

Viktor Nikiforov was many things.

 

He was impulsive, and self sacrificing.  He was stubborn, and ruthless. Most importantly, he played by his own set of rules.

 

When he met Yuuri, these things were chiseled away from his cold exterior. The image of "Viktor Nikiforov" was taken away: kiss by kiss, by warm Sunday mornings with nothing but socks and long t-shirts, by the flame in Yuuri’s eyes when he was determined, by the sparkle when he was overwhelmed with emotion.

 

Yuuri Katsuki turned him from a cold, impenetrable statue into a work of art.  Each caress, and whispered “I love you” made Viktor more, well,  _ Viktor _ .  

 

He was having a dream that seemed fine, but there was a dark edge bleeding in, turning it slowly but surely into a nightmare.

 

Yuuri was standing on an island all alone.  Viktor sent him love notes across the water, using a dove.  Yuuri would rip them up and throw them in the water without reading them.

 

For some reason, Viktor couldn't stop sending them.  The letters would disintegrate in the ocean but Viktor would already be scribbling away at a new one.

 

He woke with a start at two in the morning, after dream Yuuri had eaten one of his letters and the dove sending them.  His skin prickled in a cold sweat, and he quickly scrambled over Phichit, fast asleep on the floor, to get himself water from the kitchen.

 

As his breathing calmed down, he reminded himself that Yuuri would never do such a thing.  It was all in his imagination.

 

However, he couldn't shake that horrible, empty feeling that Yuuri was in trouble.

 

_ I’ll just check on him,  _ Viktor reasoned.  He would poke his head into Yuuri’s room, make sure he was still asleep, then his mind would be at ease.

 

In his slippers he padded down to Yuuri’s room, taking a deep breath and peeking inside.  His silver hair fell in his face, and he brushed it back, peering into darkness. 

 

The light of the hallway illuminated Yuuri’s tiny room.  It had been immaculate for the last few days, not a sock out of place.  Mari told him that Yuuri was never so careful about cleaning, and Viktor knew that to be true.  It was just another small opening that Viktor collected, until he gets enough to blow Yuuri wide open and wiggle in and pick up the pieces together.  

 

The bed was lumpy, and Viktor gently whispered, “Yuuri, darling, I don't want to scare you I'm just coming in…”

 

He stopped dead, though, when he saw that the collection of pillows did not contain his fiancé.

 

Flutter, flutter, stop went his heart.  His shaking fingers started pulling at the bedding, ruining the tranquillity of the organization, but Viktor didn't care because Yuuri wasn't there.

 

He tried calling him.  His frantic English was left of Yuuri’s voicemail countless times.  Eventually Viktor stormed back into his room and shook Phichit gently.  “Phichit, where's Yuuri?”

 

“Sleep,” the Thai skater whined, but Viktor didn't have the patience for this today.  He threw the blankets off of him, startling Phichit sit up, hair in disarray and eyes bruised from sleep.

 

“Where's Yuuri, Phichit?”

 

Blinking quite a few times, he whispered, “he was hanging out in the living room last night when I went to sleep.  He's probably in bed, Viktor.”

 

“He’s not,” the Russian growled, and the younger man practically bolted from the room.

 

The bed was empty.  There was no note. There wasn't anything, just an empty bed and a thousand questions.  With all the commotion, the Katsuki family emerged, immediately going into crisis mode when they realized what had happened.

 

After they searched the whole Inn, top to bottom, Viktor fell back into one of the couches, feeling like he was floating somewhere above his body.  His fingers tingled and his lips were parted in shock.

 

Mari, at some point, had put a blanket over his shoulders, but he just couldn't find the energy to stand or do much of anything except dread.

 

Dread culminating in one question: where did Yuuri go?

 

“Can we use that app?” Toshiya questioned, but Phichit was already way ahead of them.

 

After scrolling for a bit, his face fell in surprise, then  resolution.

 

“I'm going alone.”

 

Mari’s eyes widened.  “No, we should…”

 

“I’ll call you when I find him,” Phichit promised, but Viktor was just staring at him.

 

“I want… just… where is he?”

 

While nibbling on his lip, Phichit said softly, “a few towns over.”

 

“Great, then we can all go…” Mari interjected, but Phichit shook his head.

 

“I’ll call within the hour one way or the other,” Phichit insisted, running to his room and throwing on jeans and a t-shirt, clicking around on his phone and bolting out the door.

 

Viktor watched him go with emptiness.  Something in him was telling him to follow Phichit, to see what was the problem, but he couldn't move.

 

An image just kept rushing through his head, flooding all other thoughts and choking him.

 

Of his love, crumpled somewhere dark and scary, all alone.  Abandoned, not breathing…

 

At some point Mari pushed a cup of tea into his hands.  He took a sip immediately, burning the roof of his mouth.  Instead of gasping at the pain, he started laughing hysterically, putting down the cup as he doubled over in a fit of giggles.  A hand came to rest on his shoulder, and he realized that at some point tears had started to drop onto his lap.

 

When did he start crying?

 

Yuuri wouldn't kill himself.  He wouldn't, right? That would be… he couldn't.  But Viktor remembers the nights he had to bandage Yuuri’s skin, had to hide the razor blades and the knives.  Viktor remembers seeing Yuuri on the bathroom floor, tearing up his skin with his nails.

 

Maybe he didn't know Yuuri as well as he thought.

  
  


***

  
  


Phichit sat in the car he called, staring at the club that Yuuri had been at not forty minutes before.

 

His phone said he was still there, and as Phichit looked at the line leading out the door, he realized that he wouldn't be able to follow Yuuri inside.  It would take at least an hour just to get past the bouncer

 

Instead, he got out of the car and let his driver go, settling onto a bench and calling Yuuri’s phone over and over again.

 

Then, on the fifth time, Phichit heard a startled chirping, Yuuri’s ringtone, from next to the club.  Phichit hurried over to the alley, but there was a fence too tall to scale, and in the alley kissing someone completely random was…

 

“Yuuri,” Phichit sighed, heart squeezing as Yuuri consumed the person in front of him, as the person in front of him got down on his knees.

 

At that point, Phichit walked away.  

 

He sat on the bench, trying to find the words, trying to process what he just saw.  He waited and waited but after his hour was up, he had to call Viktor.

 

“Where is he?” The voice demanded weakly, and for a moment, Phichit remembered all the times in college that Yuuri would sneak away with people, and would come back the next morning with exciting tales to tell.

 

Phichit had a feeling that he wouldn't be sharing this time.

 

“He's alright.  I got a visual on him but I can't get to him right now.”

 

Pause, before a whispered, “I want to speak with him.”

 

“I'm not quite next to him yet.  I’ll let you know when I get a hold of him.”

 

“Where are you?!” Viktor demanded, but Phichit shushed him.

 

“Trust me, Viktor.  When I know, you'll know.”

 

That wasn't, strictly speaking, true.

 

Then, out of the front doors came a few guys, one of which was the one that Phichit saw with Yuuri in the alley.

 

He moved lightning quick, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him back roughly.

 

Startled, he turned around, light hair bouncing in its curls as he looked at the shorter man with confusion.

 

He started speaking in Japanese, until Phichit interrupted him with a picture pulled up on his phone of him and Yuuri together, saying calmly, “English, please.”

 

“Oh!” His eyes lit up, looking at the other man in a whole new light, “we were trying to find him.  He disappeared out from under our noses. I tried to get him to stay and talk, because he really seemed fucked up, but it's like he vanished.”

 

How did he get out of the club without passing Phichit?  

 

After a quick walk around the block, he almost hit himself when he saw that the back exit lead almost directly to the train station.  Running up to the platform, he saw a disheveled man with dark hair with his back to him, but he was already boarding the train, and when the doors closed and the man was seated, Phichit knew that it was Yuuri, staring at his phone and looking dead inside.

 

He tried chasing after, but the train was too fast.  He quickly looked up where the train would go to, and saw that there was another train along the same route coming in twenty minutes.

 

After buying his ticket, he hopped on the train and texted to Viktor,  _ on train back towards Hasetsu.  He might just come home. Otherwise, I'm right behind him. _

 

Sent.

  
  


***

  
  


Itsuko landed her triple lutz perfectly, holding her hands up high in victory.  Her coach commented on minor details, but overall was very impressed with her performance.

 

She stepped off the ice to grab her water bottle and review the recording of her jump, to check her entry, when suddenly her roommate was calling her.

 

Miku’s smiling face showed on her phone, and she answered breathily, “what's going on, Miku?”

 

“Is practice almost over?”

 

Her coach was going over a jump with another skater, but Itsuko knew that she could have left an hour ago.  She liked the extra practice time.

 

“It depends.”

 

“Okay, well, I just found Yuuri sitting on our apartment steps.  He looks really messed up, Tsu. I don't think he's slept.”

 

Heart beating rather fast, she quickly took off her skates, bursting from the room immediately, jogging back to her apartment.

 

When she got inside, she saw Yuuri passed out on the couch, his soft breath tickling his hair and cheeks rosy with color.

 

“He just fell asleep,” Miku explained, kneeling next to Yuuri.  The man moved a hand to cover his eyes as the light from the kitchen beamed at him.

 

“Yuuri, Itsuko is here.  We’re trying to figure out how to help you.”

 

Blinking awake, Yuuri looked around, suddenly very alarmed.

 

“You didn't call Viktor, right?”

 

Both of them gaped back at him.  “What… why? Is that bad?”

 

Panic was quickly sewn into Yuuri’s features. And Itsuko took his hand gently.

 

“What's going on, Yuuri?”

 

Yuuri sank back into the couch, eyes blown open in shock.

 

“Just… don't tell him I'm here.”

 

He rolled over then, and Itsuko quickly pulled out her phone, going out onto the terrace.

 

“Hello?” Viktor gasped from the other line, and Itsuko sighed.

 

“Hey Viktor, it’s Itsuko.  I just wanted to let you know that Yuuri is safe with me right now.  I think he needs some space to breathe.”

 

A pause on the other end.

 

“Where do you live?  I'm coming to get him.”

 

Biting her lip, she said, “I can't do that Viktor. I’ll text you updates, though.  If I can't get him to talk by tomorrow I’ll let you know where I am.”

 

She hung up and turned her phone off, looking out into the mid afternoon sunshine.

 

When she came back in the room, Yuuri was putting his shoes on, looking anywhere but up.  

 

She stopped dead in her tracks, her dark sheet of hair falling on her shoulders.  

 

“Where are you going?”

 

Yuuri just shrugged, continuing to tie up his laces.

 

“Yuuri, everyone is looking for you.  What happened? Talk to me.”

 

Shaking his head, Yuuri made to grab for his wallet, but Itsuko deftly snatched it and tucked it down her shirt and into her bra.  Yuuri’s face lit up with embarrassment, and Itsuko knew that she had won for the moment. Even when Yuuri was in a terrible place, his tendency to be a touch awkward around women was at least consistent.  

 

“Give it back,” he snapped, narrowing his eyes at her.  “I don't need your help.”

 

“Bullshit,” she hissed, until she realized that she had a much better view of Yuuri from here, and adorning his neck was a collection of bruises.

 

“Yuuri,” Itsuko hissed, “did Viktor hurt you?”

 

Eyes widening, Yuuri touched the tender skin on his neck, wincing.  “Oh, ah, these… just got carried away…”

 

Itsuko tugged on his shirt, but he shook his head.  “Just let me go.”

 

She didn't move, though, and Yuuri fisted his shirt in his hand, pulling himself up to full height.

 

Then, all at once he seemed to pop, and deflated back onto the couch, head in his hands.

 

“I messed up.”

 

Miku had left, so it was just the two of them in her living room, Itsuko towering over Yuuri despite being the shorter of the two.

 

“Viktor is never going to forgive me,” Yuuri whispered, fingernails biting into his opposite arms.

 

Itsuko rolled her eyes, biting her lip.  “Viktor is desperately in love with you. I highly doubt that.”

 

“You don’t understand.”

 

“Help me to.”

 

Silence.  Clock ticking from somewhere inside the house.  The sound of Miku pouring tea out for three. Itsuko looking at Yuuri’s face and realizing that something big had happened, but he wasn’t ready to share.

 

“Want to watch some tv?”

 

They sat for a few hours, watching tv and eating snacks and drinking tea.  At some point Yuuri asked to borrow sweats and a t-shirt, and Itsuko went through some of the clothes her brother keeps at her apartment and dug them out.

 

While chopping up vegetables for dinner, Yuuri saw Itsuko’s phone start ringing.

 

_ Viktor Nikiforov calling… _

 

Yuuri’s face fell into shock, meeting Itsuko’s eyes accusingly.

 

“You told him I’m here,” he whispered, dropping the knife and starting to back up.

 

Itsuko put down her own knife, silencing the call and holding her hands up in surrender.  Yuuri was a frightened deer, and one wrong move and he was out of the apartment and she had no idea where he would go.

 

Gently, she stated, “I told him that I was with you and that you were safe.  He’s really worried, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri’s fingers came up to his hair, gathered it in bunches, and he fell over onto the ground on his knees, breathing heavily.

 

“Oh no, Yuuri…”

 

She kneeled down next to him and talked him through the panic attack.  They did controlled breathing, then a grounding exercise. By the end, Yuuri was quietly sitting on the tile, hair bunched between his fingers, lips parted as if he was trying to say something but his mind wouldn’t cooperate.  

 

Her phone started buzzing again.  

 

Yuuri ran.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah this will definitely have at least two more chapters. I'm going to go write some fluff to make myself feel better. 
> 
> If you like this, check out my other YOI fics! 
> 
> Also, leaving a comment or a kudos or sharing with your friends really helps to motivate me to keep writing. I appreciate each and every one of you<3


	5. Enough Said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri contemplates what to do next. Later, Viktor makes a hard choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello hello my loves<3
> 
> I'm back! I've moved into my new apartment and am back to updating my fics. Keep an eye out for more from me<3
> 
> As always, thank you to the lovely people who comment, give kudos, and support me in general. I'm undeniably blessed to share this adventure with each of you.
> 
> This chapter is going to be another rough one. As always, if this fic makes you feel some type of way, please reach out to a loved one. Consider seeing a professional, who can help you work through your feelings in a healthy way. It won't fix it, but hopefully it will help.
> 
> As always, I do not own Yuri! on Ice

The beach was always quiet at night.

 

During the day people were bustling about, selling things, playing games, but at night, with the moonlight pouring over the ocean, it was tranquil.

 

Yuuri was sitting on the sand, knees to his chest, staring out over the twinkling reflection of the stars in the surface of the water.  A perfect world, turned upside down. It happened naturally, and without any warning. It’s an odd life that the sky leads.

 

His phone was still dead in his pocket.  He stared out over the water, fighting the urge to call for help.  He had to remind himself that he didn’t deserve help. He cheated on his fiance, and then ran away.  Who would even want to have him around, anymore?

 

_ Spoiled goods for the night. _

 

_ Spoiled goods. _

 

It occurred to him, with the reflected back from his bright brown orbs, that he set up the perfect trap for himself.  He couldn’t hate himself for that guy touching him, but he can hate himself for cheating. No one would blame him for that.  They wouldn’t be insisting that he leave room for forgiveness; no, that wasn’t for him.

 

A laugh escaped Yuuri’s belly, and the tears started up again.

 

He couldn’t go home.  He couldn’t see Viktor’s adoring face without wanting to vomit, knowing what he had done.

 

The ocean looked so peaceful.  The water was probably freezing, but Yuuri couldn’t help but wish he could sink beneath the waves, and disappear in the surf.

 

Yuuri remembered, suddenly, sitting at the ocean with Viktor, and Viktor asking him what he wanted their relationship to be like.  His stomach clenched when he remembered that Vitktor didn’t care what he was to Yuuri; he cared more about being in his life, and spending time with him.  He could have done that as a friend, or a father figure.

 

His wedding vows came to him, suddenly, the murmur of the surf swallowing his words as he whispered the line:

 

“ _ No matter where in the world we go, as long as I can find my way back to you, I’m home. _ ”

 

The words sunk into his mind, replaying over and over.

 

He sat up and walked to a nearby cafe, and asked to borrow one of their phone chargers.  He tapped his foot impatiently, until his phone came to life, flooded with texts and calls.

 

Instead of answering any of them, he dialed the one person who he needed right now.

 

“Phichit?  It’s me. I need… I need you to come pick me up.”

  
  


***

  
  


The steam coming off the coffee curled restlessly around Yuuri’s words as he explained the story.  Phichit listened intently, stomaching the rough parts with a bite of coffee cake.

 

The story unfurled and soon the coffee was gone and so were the boys.  

 

They were going to face the music.

 

Phichit left a good tip, and texted Viktor that Yuuri was on his way home, but that he had things to tell him.

  
  


***

  
  


When Yuuri stepped out of the car, Phichit grabbed his hand and guided him towards the inn.  When they got close, a very worried Hiroko tackled her son. She raved in their sharp native tongue about having her worried, and about leaving a note or answering his phone.

 

Toshiya hugged him tightly, without saying any words.  The worry was conveyed by the tightness of the embrace, the lines carved deeper into his face.

 

Mari flicked her cigarette and said, “Don’t do that again, idiot,” and walked away.

 

“Where’s… Viktor?”

 

It was a quiet walk to the beach.  Apparently Yuuri and Viktor were the same way: when things didn’t make sense, they went to the ocean.  Phichit walked with Yuuri there, and when he stepped foot on the sand Viktor turned around, eyes bright and breathing labored.

 

His silver hair fell, dishevelled in his face, and he looked beautiful covered in sand with a too-large sweatshirt on and his jeans rolled up so he could stand in the surf.

 

Phichit walked behind Yuuri carefully as they approached Viktor.  Phichit had said that Yuuri had something to tell Viktor, and that it needed to be said before anything else happened.

 

When the words came back to Viktor, he sat down on the sand and waited for them to come to him.

 

Once Yuuri was sitting a few feet from Viktor, hurt crossed his features, and his hands retreated into his lap like they were burned.

 

“Phichit is just here to moderate in case we get into a fight,” Yuuri said softly, his words sliding through the air and settling heavily on all of them.

 

Yuuri couldn’t look into those eyes, the sweet, honest eyes of the man he loved.  He had changed before coming, putting on a scarf and sweater with comfortable slacks.  His fingers itched in his lap.

 

“I’m so glad that you’re alright,” Viktor whispered, smiling tightly.  It was almost eleven at night, and the streetlights gleamed in Viktor’s eyes, making them almost luminescent as Yuuri tentatively looked up at him.

 

The man who stole his heart.

 

Now it was time to break that heart.

 

“I wanted to prove something to myself the other night,” Yuuri started softly, hands grabbing fistfuls of sand and letting the pebbles run like rivers between his fingers.  “I… when we made love, it made me feel better. I felt… in control again. Like… like I wasn’t… spoiled goods.”

 

Viktor opened his mouth to argue, then caught himself, seeing the dread filling Yuuri’s whole body, weighing him down into the sand.

 

“I… I felt like you wanting me was proof that everything was fine, and that I was still… worthy,” the sand was forming small mounds now, and Yuuri ran his fingers through them.  “I went to a club. I figured I could flirt with some people and prove to myself that it wasn’t just you. I wanted to prove to myself that I could still be wanted, in general.”

 

Viktor’s breath hitched, and his fingers wove together tightly in his hand.

 

“I was flirting with this guy.  It… went too far. He… he went down on me behind the club.”

 

Phichit was looking back and forth like a tennis match was occurring, and Viktor looked down at his hands, blown open wide with shock.

 

Tears started to pour down Yuuri’s face.  “I don’t know what I need to do to make it up to you but I’ll do it.  I’ll do anything. I thought it would make me feel better and it did, for a little while, until I realized that I had betrayed you.”

 

Viktor touched his face gently, like he wasn’t sure he was still there.

 

“Please say something,” Yuuri pleaded, and Viktor stood up, brushing his hair back.

 

His voice, cracking and deep, “There was consent?”

 

Yuuri sobbed, but nodded his head.

 

“You cheated on me,” Viktor said slowly, like he was trying to bend the words to make sense, somehow.

 

Phichit came up on his knees in front of Yuuri, clearly uncertain what Viktor was going to do next.

 

“I’m… I’m just happy that you’re alive, honestly.  I think that I need time with this. I don’t… I think I’m just so relieved that you’re alright that I’m not thinking clearly.  I… I just want to hold you, Yuuri,” Viktor whined petulantly, and then came around and collapsed on his knees in front of his fiance, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in his neck.

 

Phichit wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, but he stayed next to them.  Eventually Yuuri started crying again, and Yuuri’s shirt under Viktor’s face started getting wet, too.

 

The moon glistened off of the sea and time continued to pass.  The world did not end, no matter the level of dread that Yuuri had in his belly.

 

The world wasn’t going to end.

  
  


***

  
  


They slept in separate beds that night.  Yuuri had Phichit sleeping on his floor, and was able to actually get a few hours of rest.

 

The next morning, Viktor was making himself coffee when Yuuri stepped in.

 

Time stopped for a second, but quickly they went on with their morning like normal.  Mari was doing some prep work for the inn’s breakfast menu, Hiroko was folding towels in the corner, and Toshiya was eating his own breakfast quietly.

 

Yuuri had Phichit following close behind him, and they all managed to sit around the breakfast table and eat in relative silence.  Toshiya and Mari were commenting in Japanese on something in the news. Phichit was complementing Hiroko on her selection of teas as he dug through their cabinet.

 

Viktor kept looking over at Yuuri, and looking away when he tried to make eye contact.  Eventually Viktor left the table, and Yuuri was left digging half-moon nail marks into his palms, trying his best to remain calm.

  
  


***

  
  


Inevitably, Viktor ended up at Ice Castle.

 

Yuuko had let him in, hugging him tightly and asking when Yuuri would be back to practice.  They had been telling her that he was injured for right now, but eventually they’d have to come clean.

 

Eventually wasn’t now, though.

 

He found himself running through an old program, one he’d skated when he was seventeen.  It was just after his first heartbreak. He was an older man with eyes the same color as cool, fresh earth that you would just love to sink into.  Viktor created this program in a fit in the middle of the night. In his frustration he’d managed to slice his hands up good and bruised his left hip, but by the next morning he showed Yakov his idea.

 

“It needs polishing, but that’s… that’s good,” Yakov didn’t show many facial expressions, but the light twitch of his lip showed that he was at least moderately impressed.

 

They ended up scrapping it for something with fewer spins and more jumps for the points, but whenever Viktor couldn’t make sense of the world, he would come back to this.

 

“Trial of a Broken Heart” was haunting and fast.  It had sharp turns and near dangerous spins. The ice was full of broken shards from toe picks and sudden stops, and Viktor found himself dissolving into the frantic music floating around in his head.

 

Yuuri wasn’t dead.

 

Yuuri wasn’t dead.

 

Yuuri wasn’t dead.

 

Somehow that was the only fact that seemed to matter in Viktor’s brain.  He knew that what happened should bother him, and he knew he should feel betrayed, but… mostly he just felt guilty for not being angry at Yuuri at all.  That was how you were supposed to act when your fiance hooked up with another man behind a bar, right? That was supposed to be how Viktor felt?

 

He just couldn’t imagine Yuuri doing such a thing.  Maybe he wasn’t angry because he couldn’t imagine Yuuri kissing someone else, or letting someone else take him into their mouth, or coming in someone else…

 

The part of the routine where Viktor froze momentarily while reaching towards the sky caught up to him, but when he got there he found that he couldn’t move onto the next part.

 

It was suddenly very clear in Viktor’s mind.  The idea of someone else licking and tasting Yuuri, of someone else learning about where he liked being touched most and the best way to suck him off to get him off and… suddenly Viktor felt sick.

 

He was the only person who was allowed to do that.  

 

He was the only one who was supposed to know those secret, sacred parts of Yuuri.  He was supposed to be the last one, the only one. There was never supposed to be others.  There was never supposed to be anything but the two of them, forever. That was the promise they made when they gave each other those rings…

 

...the rings that Yuuri bought.  The rings that Yuuri so nervously put on Viktor’s finger, the rings that Viktor would catch Yuuri admiring on him when he didn’t think he was looking… it was a symbol of forever.  The circle was supposed to stand for trust, for eternity, for…

 

...Viktor came off the ice as calmly as possible, changed into sneakers, and then walked very quickly to the bathroom to vomit up the contents of his stomach, which was only a little bit of coffee and two pieces of toast.

 

As he leaned down and spluttered into the toilet, feeling the deep-seated emptiness and disgust settle into his gut, it was suddenly very, very real for Viktor.

 

It was real, and it felt like it’d taken an ice pick and chipped away at his insides until there was nothing left.

 

“Viktor, are you alright?” Takeshi must have let himself into the bathroom and was knocking on the stall, concerned.

 

He didn’t answer.

 

Until… “No.  I’m not.”

  
  


***

  
  


They were sitting at the park bench.  Phichit was leaving for his flight later that evening, but was still sitting next to Yuuri dutifully to step in if things got heated.

 

“I’m going back to Russia.”

 

Yuuri heard the fact that he specified that “I am” was not “we are”.

 

Sniffling, Yuuri felt like nothing else could hurt him anymore.  He’d fallen so deeply that even if someone stabbed him right now, it would just be more of the same.

 

“I would like a little bit of time alone there to sort through my feelings.  While I’m doing that, your family and I agreed that it’d be best for you to stay with them so that they can provide the support that you need.”

 

It was all rushing water in his ears.

 

“I didn’t realize that this decision was being made for me,” Yuuri said so quietly that they almost didn’t hear.

 

Viktor winced.  “You don’t have to do any of this.  I’m telling you what we think is best, not what you have to do.”

 

Tears were gathering in Yuuri’s eyes.

 

“I get it.  I fucked up, and you need space.  Go ahead. Take the space.”

 

Viktor’s eyes were icy.  “I don’t want this to be forever.  I just need to sort through my feelings, and then we can come together and discuss where we go from here.”

 

Yuuri was silent as Viktor reached out and tried to touch his hands.

 

“I love you, Yuuri.  I love you so much. I just want to let you and me heal in our own ways for a little bit.  We’ll find our way back to each other,” Viktor looked so sad, like he was trying to convince himself as well as Yuuri, and that made Yuuri want to sob.

 

He didn’t, though.  He didn’t return the touch of hands, wasn’t even there anymore.  He was back in that alley, screaming at himself to wake up, to stop doing what he was doing, that it would ruin everything, but no matter how hard he screamed it still happened the exact same way.

 

This must all be some horrible nightmare that he can't wake up from.

 

Except, no matter how hard he pinched himself, he wouldn't wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry to leave you guys on that! I should be updating pretty soon, though, so stay tuned<3
> 
> Next time: Yuuri and Viktor sort through their feelings following the events of the chapter before
> 
> If you like this, check out my other YOI fics! I've also got some Voltron ones in the mix.


	6. Bad Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor and Yuuri spend some time apart coming to terms with what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to put the big warning up here now that there is minor suicidal ideation in this chapter. If this is something that makes you feel some type of way, please reach out to a loved one or licensed professional immediately.
> 
> This fic has a lot of heartbreak in it. I've finished it, actually, and will be posting the last of it in the coming days.
> 
> As always, to my regulars, you have my eternal gratitude. 
> 
> As always, I do not own Yuri! on Ice

_ Viktor _

 

When he got back to his cozy, black and white apartment in St. Petersburg, his young neighbor was busy playing with Makka in the den.  She looked up eagerly when he came in, saying, “Oh, Viktor, welcome back! I made Yuuri some chocolate chip muffins because I know they are his favorite…”

 

“Thanks, Rika,” Viktor said tightly, his smile fixed on his face.  He handed her an envelope with money in it, and she thanked him and exited the apartment, heading back to her place.  She didn't comment on Yuuri not being with him, and he was grateful.

 

She was a good kid, and even better she was extremely kind to Yuuri.  Viktor never had to worry about her making him uncomfortable, because she had no interest in the world of skating.  She just enjoyed the company of the two neighbors. Viktor wondered whether she had any ties with her family. He’d seen her bring girls back before, but he knew he shouldn't pry.  If she wanted to talk about, she knew where to find him.

 

After she left he deflated into the couch, his mind running wild with memories that he fought to repress.

 

_ Yuuri pressed a warm kiss to Viktor’s collarbone against the cushions, and Viktor laughed, gently waving towards the television.  “Are we done with the movie?” _

 

_ Nodding, Yuuri whispered, “Yes.  I need you now.” _

 

Another memory, more painful than the first one…

 

_ Pale fingers finished wrapping the scratch marks on Yuuri’s forearms in gauze and medical tape, Viktor making sure that they were completely covered before peppering kisses over them. _

 

_ “You need to talk to me when you feel like this.  I can’t help you if you won’t let me…” _

 

_ The Japanese man couldn’t meet Viktor’s searching eyes, not responding. _

 

Viktor grabbed his keys and got up, dialing a number on his phone.

 

“Georgi?  It’s me. I need a drink.”

 

Him calling Georgi turned into him standing outside of Mila’s place, knocking loudly with a bottle of vodka clutched in his hand.

 

Mila answered, giggling, her curly hair falling in her face.  “Vitya! Where is your better half hiding?”

 

Viktor pushed passed her gently, eyeing around the group.  It was a small party with mostly Mila and Yuri’s friends milling about, but Georgi was sitting over in the corner with a few hockey players closer to their age.  Mila came up behind him as the door closed, pouting.

 

“What’s with the long face, Vitya?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it, Mila,” Viktor deadpanned, handing the bottle to her.  “Here. I’m sorry for being terse but I need to speak to Georgi.”

 

When Mila was handed the expensive bottle of vodka she shut up immediately and scampered off with it, giggling with her friends about how she was so cool for having older skating buddies.

 

When his friend caught his eyes, Georgi excused himself from his conversation and came over to Viktor, guiding him towards Mila’s bedroom.

 

The room was immaculate save for the vanity, which was overflowing with make up and glitter and hair products and jewelry.  Viktor sat down on her soft bed, his head dropping into his hands. “Everything is messed up.”

 

Georgi sat down next to him, patting his shoulder lightly.  “I’m sure you and Yuuri will work… whatever is going on between you two out.”

 

There was a sudden gasp from the hall, and Viktor looked up to see that little blonde Yuri was staring at Viktor like he’d been struck by lightning

 

“You and Pork Cutlet Bowl are fighting?” he pulled off his headphones and wandered into the room, looking far more upset than Viktor would expect.

 

Viktor frowned up at the younger skater.  “Why do you care, Yurio?”

 

His face blew up red.  “That’s not my…” but then at a heated stare from Georgi he took a deep breath, finishing with, “you and the pig are disgustingly cute.  You’ll work it out.”

 

Blinking, Viktor cocked his head to the side.  Georgi head a crash, and ran from the room to help Mila, who was screaming at someone about something in very high pitched Russian.

 

“You guys will work it out, right?” Yuri whispered, looking down at Viktor with an extremely defeated expression, and Viktor felt his heart contract.

 

If only it were that simple.

 

“I… you two are meant to be together.  You’re too gross for anyone else. You’re two perfect idiots stuck together forever.”

 

Yuri’s pale face was dusted with a blush, like he couldn’t believe what he’d just said to Viktor, before he turned around and exited the room.

 

Without realizing it, a single tear fell down Viktor’s face.  Yuri was right, they did belong together. Why did Viktor not see that?  Yuuri needed him now more than ever. He needed to be supportive and helpful and put his own needs on the back burner.  He needed to leave immediately.

 

He got to the site to purchase a return ticket to Japan, but his finger froze over the confirmation button, angry tears forming in his eyes.

 

“Damn it!” Viktor hissed, throwing his phone down onto Mila’s plush rug, running his fingers through his hair.

 

He hated that he wanted to be away, but he hated that he wanted to be there for Yuuri.

 

There was no right answer.

 

He stayed at the party for a while, drinking quietly and debating in his head.  Mila and him played a particularly competitive drinking game that involved chugging beer and cheering and spinning in circles and by the end of it he was laughing and loose and happy and as the group disappeared into the night, Mila looked over at Viktor with mascara-rimmed eyes.  

 

“I’m glad you came, Vitya.  We’ve missed you,” she said honestly, slurring her words only a little bit before licking Viktor on the cheek.

 

The older man jumped up, cursing her out in Russian as she laughed hysterically at his bewildered expression.

 

Yuri was passed out on a couch.  Georgi was talking intimately with one of the women, his smile revealing that he was falling too hard too fast yet again with no desire to stop any time soon. 

 

Mila whined petulantly as Viktor made for the door, thanking her for her hospitality.

 

By time he got home, he could already feel it spilling over.  Memory after memory was rising unbidden in his intoxicated brain, and he sunk down onto the floor, Makka nosing him with concern, the images flashing without his permission.

 

_ They were sitting in a park drinking hot cocoa when Viktor saw a young girl fall off her scooter.  Yuuri didn’t have time to blink before Viktor was running over to her, hot cocoa abandoned. He helped her up and helped her find her mother, carrying the scooter so she wouldn’t have to ride it with the scrape digging through her jeans. _

 

_ When Viktor got back, Yuuri was looking up at his fiance with a tenderness that was new. _

 

_ Blushing, Yuuri looked away, but Viktor poked at his cheek, trying to figure out what was making Yuuri so flustered. _

 

_ “I just… you’re so good with them.  Kids, I mean. Maybe someday…” he left the sentence hanging, but Viktor picked it right up and had clung to it, his eyes shining with excitement as Yuuri breathed out with relief. _

 

_ “Someday,” Viktor answered, pressing a soft kiss to his golden ring. _

 

Makka was whining in earnest now as Viktor curled up on himself on the floor.

 

_ They’d fallen asleep while watching something.  Viktor was watching Yuuri breathe deeply with a small smile, his glasses skewed on his face.  Viktor carefully took them off and folded them up, brushing a lock of hair back from Yuuri’s face. _

 

_ “Vitya?” Yuuri groaned out, eyes squinting open, “What are you doing?” _

 

_ Biting his lip, with a silver lock falling into his face, Viktor said softly, “You’re beautiful like this.” _

 

_ Blushing, Yuuri sat up.  “What, drooling in my pajamas with some of the leftover popcorn on my blanket?  Come on, Vitya.” _

 

_ Viktor nodded in earnest.  “Yes, darling, exactly like that.  You’re perfect.” _

 

Eventually Viktor moved.  Eventually Makka and him curled up in their bed that didn’t smell like them anymore and Viktor kept trying to find remnants of Yuuri hiding between the sheets and in the closet and across their dressers but all he found was just the emptiness that leaving Yuuri had created in him.

 

He made a mistake.

 

Except… did he?

 

He fell asleep fully clothed with the dog, who kept licking his face trying to make him feel better.

 

When he’d fully fallen asleep, he slipped into a peaceful slumber, his mind taking him back to his fiance, back in time to before all of this had happened to them.

 

Except… Viktor sat up in the middle of the night, nauseous, and ran over to the bathroom.  As he kneeled weakly over the porcelain, his stomach churning unevenly, he realized that this didn’t all just start with the assault.  Yuuri had been self harming for years. His anxiety had had a firm grasp on him for as long as Viktor had known him. The self harm wasn’t new.  How was seeking out the company of others not considered just another form of self harm?

 

The swirling thoughts kept him awake for hours, until the cold light of day washed over his exhausted form and he found himself coming to a final conclusion about the matter.

 

Yuuri hadn’t wanted to hurt Viktor.

 

Yuuri acting out had been a cry for help.  Maybe Viktor was a weak man for allowing his fiance to cheat on him and get away with it, but somehow through all the pain and the struggle and his shaking hands gripping the edges of the toilet Viktor realized that he didn’t care about what Yuuri had done as long as it was done in an attempt to help himself feel better, not to betray Viktor.

 

The conclusion disappeared in his drowsy train of thought as he wandered over to his bed in the morning, completely empty.

 

He sent a text before he fell asleep again, to Mari.

 

_ V: Keep an eye on him for me.  If you could fly with him to Russia in a few days I’ll pay for your ticket.  I don’t think he should be alone. _

 

_ M: What do you think he’ll do?  What aren’t you telling me? _

 

_ V: Just tell him that I love him.  I can’t even stay mad at him. _

 

_ M: Whatever.  You chose to leave him here with us instead of being here for him.  Whatever happens is on you. _

 

Stomach plummeting, Viktor clutched his phone to his chest, panic gripping him.  

 

What had he done?

  
  


_ *** _

 

_ Yuuri _

 

Everything was blank, for a while.

 

He got up, helped around the onsen, watched television, went on a run, and usually by eight he was in bed trying his best to pretend like he wasn’t slowly being eaten up on the inside.

 

His parents just saw that he was trying his best.  His sister just saw that he was eating at least two meals and sleeping eight hours.

 

None of them realized that Yuuri was dead inside.

 

He couldn’t even fathom trying to contemplate what brought him from being touched to letting someone else touch him.  It made so much sense at the time, but in hindsight he hated himself. Of course he was a slut. Of course he was spoiled goods.  There was nothing redeemable about him.

 

A few days after Viktor left, the Russian called Mari to ask how he was doing.  Mari reported the usual, that he was eating and sleeping and exercising, and Yuuri heard Viktor’s voice from the other line.

 

“I wish I could… I just want him to be okay.  I miss him so much.”

 

That pain in his voice was all Yuuri’s fault.  It was his fault for forcing Viktor to have to leave.  All of this was his fault.

 

That was that, then.

 

Yuuri took a train the next morning with one small bag.  It led a few hours away to the coast. He spent most of the trip writing things down in a journal that he then stowed carefully into the bag, looking out the window at the sunrise peeking over the horizon.

 

His parents and Mari were calling him, but he’d thrown his phone onto the tracks at the station.

 

It was an hour long hike from the station.  Yuuri had worn his running shoes and an athletic outfit in anticipation of the walk.  It was beautiful out, the kind of sunshine that filtered warmly through the treeline and toasted you up against the early, damp chill blanketing the forest floor.

 

When he reached the cliff face, he gasped.

 

He’d only been there one other time, when he was seventeen and googled the tallest cliff within a day’s ride of Hasetsu.  He’d come here, to this very spot, and looked out over the jagged rocks below, trying to find the one that would work best to make sure that the job was done right.

 

This is where he’d come to die back then.

 

Now, he was uncertain, sitting down on the ledge and letting his legs dangle over the edge, watching the waves crash into the rocks and wondering whether there was anything worth staying for.

 

A memory, then, surfaced.  A memory of Viktor brushing Yuuri’s hair after he couldn’t get out of bed for two days, of him washing Yuuri and making him eat and making sure he slept.  Of the gentle touches that Yuuri cherished above all else, even above the sexual or the emotional, because nothing else in this world made him feel more loved than Viktor’s hands brushing back his hair, caressing his cheek, holding his lower back…

 

If he jumped off this cliff right now, he would never feel those touches again.

 

He pulled his legs up, backing away slowly, blinking rapidly and remembering that no matter what, if he died now, he would never be able to make all of this up to Viktor.  

 

It was going to be hard work.  It was going to hurt like hell, but if Yuuri was willing to put in the time, he’d spend the rest of his life making up to Viktor.

 

Maybe, somewhere in all of that, he could find it in himself to start to heal, too.

 

Yuuri found himself borrowing a cell phone from a stranger back at the station, and Mari met him at the Hasetsu station, furious.  Once they were alone in the car, she screamed at him about worrying her, about how he should have told them what he was planning, about how selfish Yuuri was being by thinking that he could solve everything by jumping.

 

The next morning he was packing a bag.  Mari stood watch over him silently, then escorted him to the airport, watching him go through security stoically.

 

Yuuri sent Viktor only one message, that read:

 

_ Y: I want to try.   _

  
  


***

  
  


When Yuuri saw that Viktor was waiting in the airport, he came to a short stop, his eyes widening.

 

“You came,” Yuuri choked out, feeling everything he’d been bottling up for days spilling over.

 

Sighing, Viktor smiled sadly.  “Of course I came, my love.”

 

The rest of the airport was rushing past Yuuri in a blur because all he could see was Viktor and the space between them was electric with sadness and Yuuri couldn’t breathe because even after everything that happened, Viktor was here.

 

They walked quietly to the car, and drove home with small talk about the flight and how the inn was doing.

 

When they got back to their apartment, Viktor tackled Yuuri in the door, taking in his smell and his weight and how he was shaking like a leaf.

 

“I’m willing to try, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter to go!
> 
> If you like this, check out some of my other fics! Silver Devil's Play is the most similar to this one, and its sequel is ongoing. If any of you peeps are into Voltron, I've also got some of those!
> 
> Next time: Viktor and Yuuri try


	7. Once is Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor and Yuuri help Yuuri heal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies.
> 
> So we're at the end! As always, I don't like happy endings, but that doesn't mean that the ending won't be sweet somehow.
> 
> Some important notes about this chapter: Viktor and Yuuri will be dealing with helping Yuuri through his self harm urges and understanding why he had them even before the assault. There will be therapy in this chapter, medication, relapse, and heartbreak. There will also be healing. Healing isn't linear, it's a zigzag of horror that hopefully you make it through without losing too much of yourself along the way. It's always worth it, though. I promise
> 
> As usual, I do not own Yuri! on Ice

They were sitting in the living room, a calming candle burning nearby.  Viktor was perched on a chair a short distance away from Yuuri, encouraging him with a hesitant smile.

 

Truthfully, Yuuri looked wrecked.  His face was pale and his eyes were bruised, and he fiddled with a stress ball in his hands, trying to find his words in the squishing and expanding of the foam.

 

The words started to form, then.  They started quiet, but then Yuuri got louder, confidence growing as his voice wavered over the memories and Viktor just sat quietly and encouraged him through it.

 

He told Viktor about the drinking, and the dancing, and the hands he didn’t want.  He told Viktor about the feeling of being out of control, that his attacker could be anywhere, that he was somehow spoiled goods.

 

Yuuri talked about how he went out the night he cheated with the intention to relive the experience and change the outcome.  He explained that he had hoped that it would help overwrite the other experience.

 

It didn’t.

 

All sorts of thoughts were running through Viktor’s head.  He wanted to support Yuuri, but he also felt betrayed. Altogether he was just trying his best to encourage Yuuri to open up, to talk about the events, to let him in on what he was thinking and feeling.

 

When he was done, Yuuri was squeezing the stress ball with a lot of force.

 

“I want to hurt myself right now,” Yuuri admitted, and Viktor nodded, coming over and brushing back his hair. 

 

“I’ll stay with you.”

 

They sat next to each other on the couch, not touching and watching a stupid reality show that they both liked.  They laughed and every time Yuuri’s hands would disappear for more than a few seconds Viktor would seek them out, making sure they weren’t scratching the hell out of his legs or finding an object to open himself up with.

 

That night, as Viktor tucked Yuuri into the bed, he did a manual check of the room.  There were no knives, keys, razors, thumb tacks, or any other sharp item, and as Viktor laid down next to his fiance, keeping a small distance between them, he watched Yuuri’s eyes open as he stared off into space, looking completely lost.

 

Viktor squeezed his hand reassuringly, as Yuuri drifted in and out of consciousness and awareness, letting the horror of what he’d just re-lived wash over him and settle on him like a weighted blanket.

 

***

  
  


Days passed.  Viktor kept careful watch of Yuuri, but maintained a respectful distance, letting him figure things out in his own time.

 

It started out small.  They started cooking together again.  Yuuri wouldn’t eat much, but it was something they could do together, something productive that they could do to give each other their company without any other expectations.

 

They would watch television together, and go on walks together.  Sometimes Yuuri liked going on walks alone, and Viktor had to force himself to let him.  He couldn’t help but worry when Yuuri was out alone. What if he hurt himself? What if someone else hurt him?  What if he didn’t come back?

 

In the end, he realized bitterly, the choice was up to Yuuri.

 

On one particularly bad day, Yuuri came home from his walk and immediately dropped a few items onto the counter, not meeting Viktor’s eyes.

 

Viktor fingered through them carefully.  There were a few pencil sharpeners with razors on them, and some sharp rocks.  There were even a few hair pins that had the wax point removed and was ready to be used.

 

“Did you use any of them?” Viktor asked quietly, looking up at Yuuri with wet eyes.  Those beautiful blues made Yuuri drop to his knees, trembling as he held himself.

 

Then, finally, he shook his head, and Viktor got rid of them immediately.

  
  


***

  
  


Viktor would love to say that they were able to recover without a hitch, but that would be a lie.

 

There were stumbles.  

 

There was a night not long after the sharp objects incident where Viktor had found staples hoarded away in Yuuri’s glasses case.  Viktor went to Yuuri, who was listening to music and coloring on the couch, and asked, “What the hell are these?”

 

With a tired sigh, Yuuri looked up at Viktor.  “It’s the only thing that helps.”

 

Viktor was aghast.  “So you’re cutting again?  I thought I was keeping the sharps away?  I thought you were trying to avoid another relapse?”

 

“You wanted those things, and I thought I could do it but… I just can’t, Viktor.  I feel like hell all the time. I can’t help myself…”

 

“I’m supposed to just let you do this to yourself, then?  What about all those times you asked me to keep you from doing it?  What about all of the nights I stayed up with you to make sure you were safe?  Were all of those nothing? Were you lying about wanting to get better? Am I the only one that wants to help you, Yuuri?”

 

“No!” Yuuri’s voice was trembling, and he held himself on the couch.  “No, I don’t deserve help! I hurt you. I deserve to live like this. I deserve this pain.”

 

Exhausted and choking on a pained laugh, Viktor paced around the kitchen for about twenty minutes, trying to come to grips with the situation he found himself in.

 

They fell asleep that night angry, but still together

  
  


***

  
  


One morning, as Viktor prepared for his morning jog, Yuuri came up behind him, hair mussed from sleep and long sleeves inappropriate for how hot it was outside.

 

“Can I come?”

 

Shocked, Viktor just stared at him for a moment before nodding.  Yuuri hadn’t left the apartment in the few weeks since he’d come back to Russia.  Viktor did all the shopping and errands himself, without a single complaint.

 

After seeing Viktor’s nod, Yuuri went back into their room, the sound of dresser drawers being opened and closed making Viktor feel like the weight of the world was lifted, even if it was just for a few seconds.

 

When Yuuri came back out, it was with gym shorts and an anime t-shirt, his running shoes laced up and ready to go.

 

As he came to Viktor, the older man saw the marks on his fiance’s upper arm and upper thigh.  Old scars and fading red lines and bandages poorly placed under the sleeve line.

 

They ran three miles.  Yuuri struggled with the last mile, but managed to keep up anyway, huffing and puffing and gasping through the whole process.

 

When they got back to the apartment, Viktor took Yuuri into the bathroom and helped him shed his clothes, carefully cleaning out the fresh and older wounds, making sure they were disinfected, and then bandaging them up with care, the way he used to.

 

“You can’t keep going like this forever,” Viktor whispered into his hair later that night, and Yuuri heard it, making his stomach drop.

 

_ I know.  This is the best I can do, right now.  I hope you can forgive me. _

  
  


*** 

  
  


When Viktor left the apartment one day, Yuuri found himself alone with nothing to do.  He started prepping to make biscuits for lunch, and as he was grating the butter, he looked at the sharp edges on the grater, something dawning on him.

 

He hadn’t hurt himself in over a week.

 

There wasn’t any sudden realization of great truth that helped him.  There wasn’t anything particularly special about those days compared to other days.  However, Yuuri held onto that fast, holding it to his chest.

 

Seven days recovered.

 

It was small, but he found that the tiny sliver of peace that it brought was enough.

  
  


***

  
  


Eight days recovered.  He was on a run with Viktor, and they went four miles this time, both of them laughing towards the end as a post workout endorphin high bloomed between them.

  
  


***

  
  


Nine days recovered.  Viktor read a book and Yuuri curled up next to him, cuddling into Viktor’s arm.  Viktor let him. Yuuri didn’t see that Viktor was smiling because he was already fast asleep

  
  


***

  
  


Ten days recovered.  Yuuri’s hands were shaking as he lowered a knife he’d found, dropping it and walking away.  It took every ounce of courage in him to stay strong. It felt like a hollow victory.

  
  


***

  
  


Eleven days recovered.  Yuuri was bouncing on his heel at the psychiatrist’s office, Viktor holding his hand tightly.

 

“I’m proud of you,” Viktor said for the fortieth time, but Yuuri couldn’t help but feel like he was somehow failing by asking for help.

 

When they got called back, Yuuri felt his gut twist unpleasantly, but he knew that he needed to do this.

 

He left that day with two new prescriptions.  One was for a regular psychiatric medication, and one was a benzo, that could calm him down when he was at the brink.

 

When he took the medication that night, he felt like something inside of him was wilting.

 

Viktor hugged him tightly and told him how brave he was.

 

He didn’t feel brave.

  
  


***

  
  


Twelve days recovered.  Yuuri glared at the medication before him, knowing he needed to take it for a few weeks consistently before he would be able to feel any effects, and knowing that he should take it.  There was something in him wanting to just wait it out and hope he’d magically get better on his own.

 

There was orange light slanting into the bedroom in the sunset as Yuuri chewed at his lip.  His lip was chewed raw from his anxiety, fingers itching to scratch and pull and hurt, but he stayed firm.  He continued on course.

 

When he came out of the bedroom, to find Viktor grinning happily over a traditional Russian stew with blue eyes twinkling and face sparkling with more energy than he’d seen in days, Yuuri came up to Viktor and squeezed his shoulder, looking at the wonderful layout of food in front of them.

 

The medication needed to be taken with food, and Viktor checked to make sure Yuuri had taken it before they both dug in, and later that night Viktor sang him softly to sleep, a lullaby that his mother had sung to him growing up.

  
  


***

  
  


Thirteen days recovered.  Viktor and Yuuri woke up, their noses close together, and unthinkingly Yuuri went up and pressed his lips to the seam of Viktor’s, eyes going wide when he realized what he’d done.

 

“I’m sorry Vitya I didn’t…”

 

However, hazy early morning Viktor couldn’t care less.  He pulled Yuuri back to him, deepening the kiss and running his fingers up Yuuri’s arm carefully.

 

“I missed this,” Yuuri whispered, tears shining in his eyes.

 

Viktor bit his lip playfully.  “Let’s give you something to miss.”

 

They just made out like teenagers in their own bed, hands not straying lower than their waists, mapping their chests and mouths and lips and necks back out.  As they mapped out these familiar places, Yuuri couldn’t help the sensation that this was more like coming home than moving back to Russia was.

 

It felt like a fire was stoked back up in him that he’d been afraid to go near.

 

It didn’t seem so scary, anymore.

  
  
  


***

  
  


Seventeen days recovered.  Viktor was kissing him senseless, and his hands started to venture over his chest, whispering, “Is it okay if I go farther?”

 

Yuuri gauged himself, and nothing inside of him was going off as a red flag.  Viktor’s fingers dipped below Yuuri’s waistline tentatively, tickling at the expanse of pale skin there, teasing but not touching.

 

After a few moments of this, Yuuri encouraged him, and Viktor shed Yuuri’s pants, taking his cock in hand and moving gently and punishingly slowly.  Yuuri gasped and moaned and it was the first time since that night with the man behind the bar that Yuuri had managed to get off.

 

As Viktor kissed his face afterwards, Yuuri couldn’t help but feel happily sated and claimed.  

 

The hands couldn’t hurt him, anymore.

  
  


***

  
  


Twenty days recovered, and Viktor had been giving Yuuri a blow job when Yuuri’s lungs started to deflate, a panic attack coughing out of him at a startling memory.  A memory of putting his safety on the line again, after being hurt the first time, and how much worse it could have gone, and how kind he had been but just as easily could have not been...

 

Viktor stopped and talked him through it, trying not to touch him and make it worse.  Yuuri took his medication to help with the panic and anxiety and crashed asleep, leaving Viktor to stare at him lovingly, wishing he could just take all the hurt away.

  
  


***

  
  


Twenty-two days recovered, and there were candles lit along the hallway.  Yuuri had pulled out all of the stops for when Viktor got home from a dinner with a sponsor.  There were rose petals on the bed and succulent chocolates laid out on a platter on the nightstand and when Viktor walked in, he shed his coat and scarf quickly, tackling Yuuri in a kiss.

 

The Japanese man blushed adorably, silver hair tangling with his dark hair as Viktor leaned their foreheads together.

 

“Welcome home, Vitya,” Yuuri whispered softly, and led Viktor to bed.  They made love slowly and gently, everything fresh and terrifying but also real and raw.  It was all new and also like falling into step.

 

When Viktor rode Yuuri from behind, sitting back onto his cock, Yuuri held onto Viktor for dear life.

 

“I’m yours, you know,” Yuuri whispered breathlessly into Viktor’s ear, nibbling at his neck.  “I’m all yours, forever.”

 

Viktor came undone at those words, and Yuuri stroked him through it, whispered sweet nothings into his ear.

 

Yuuri followed suit a short while later.

  
  


***

  
  


Thirty days recovered.

 

Yuuri was sitting in an office that smelled like elderberry and vanilla and there was a man sitting across from him, asking him questions about his childhood and parents and about Viktor and skating and everything else possible.

 

This was the third therapist he’d tried this week, and this one, with the wire-rimmed glasses and soothing voice, annoyed him the least.

 

As he sat on the leather couch and fiddled with his stress ball, he decided that he’d give it a shot.

  
  


***

  
  


“Forty-two days recovered,” Yuuri said calmly to his therapist as he sat down, who looked surprised.

 

“Hello to you too, Yuuri.  Recovered from what?”

 

The other man blinked, remembering that they were still working through his childhood and skating career.  They hadn’t hit his most recent relapse yet in their sessions.

 

“I was a self harmer.  I relapsed after a very difficult couple of days for me, and I haven’t hurt myself in forty-two days,” Yuuri’s voice was strong, and sure.  

 

After therapy, as he stepped out into Viktor’s car, he said the same thing.

 

“Forty-two days recovered,” Yuuri smiled against Viktor’s lips.

 

Shocked, Viktor leaned back.  “You… wait really? I wasn’t keeping track but if that’s true, it’s amazing.  I knew you could do it.”

  
  


***

  
  


Forty-nine and his therapist finally found out about the assault.

 

Fifty-six and they started trauma counseling to combat Yuuri blaming himself and to create a safe space for him to talk about the trauma.

 

Sixty-three and Viktor and him started talking about their wedding again.

 

Sixty-six and Yuuri started skating again.

 

Phichit called him on the sixty-eighth day, and Yuuri told him the number of days he’d been recovered as he discussed how much progress he’d made.

 

“That’s… I didn’t realize that this was something you struggled with so much.”

 

Biting his lip, Yuuri nodded.  “I… I’m working on referring to it as an addiction.  I have a therapist and we’ve been dealing with it.”

 

Shocked, Phichit said softly, “That’s incredible Yuuri.  You’ve come so far.”

  
  


***

  
  


Seventy-one and Yuuri called Itsuko.  They’d texted on and off over the last few months, but Yuuri needed something from her that he could only hear from her voice.

 

After exchanging pleasantries, Yuuri said softly, “I need you to tell me what happened.”

 

Itsuko painted a picture for him, of fun turning to shock and fear and moans and running.  She asked him a few times if he was sure that he wanted to hear this, but Yuuri and his therapist had decided that he needed to do this.  Yuuri found himself ripping apart paper to keep himself from hurting himself but he knew he needed to hear it so he toughed it out.

 

When Viktor got home and saw the ripped paper on the floor, he brought Yuuri into his arms and held him as he shook.

 

He didn’t shed a tear, though.  

 

He’d done well.

  
  


***

  
  


Yuuri had started to lose count of the days.  They came and went and through it all he felt like something was being stitched up inside of him.  

 

There were still nights that he couldn’t breathe.  There were still nights that made him want to throw all his progress away.  Viktor still had to be careful about the sharps, and Yuuri had to tell Viktor whenever he was having an urge.

 

That’s what the therapist had coined the desire to hurt himself.  An “urge”.

 

It had been quite a few weeks when the therapist asked Yuuri, “When did you start self harming?”

 

Biting his lip, Yuuri whispered, “I was playing with fire…”

  
  


***

  
  


His free program was something that he’d been using to work through his emotions.

 

The music was a rapid and unrelenting trilling of a flute and violin racing, reminding Yuuri of a wildfire every time he heard it.  It represented his self-destructive side fighting to get out in Yuuri’s life. It was extremely challenging and intense and he spent hours upon hours honing in each twist and spin and jump until one day we got through the whole routine to tempo, breathing heavily, and felt himself choke out a victory yell, falling to his knees on the ice despite the cold biting his skin.

 

His short program was about patience.  Specifically, Viktor’s patience. It was about watching Yuuri struggle and helping him despite all of it.  It was about how they gave themselves space without letting go of their relationship. It was all about how love was work, hard work, and Yuuri and Viktor were willing to fight every day for their love. It was a trumpet and french horn that really soared in this piece, with a marimba rising happily above the melody, taking to the sky like a bird who just learned to fly.

 

After Yuuri nailed them both, Viktor and him cheered and hugged and skated a victory lap, spinning in goofy circles and kissing softly.

 

Viktor and him were celebrating at dinner later that night when Viktor proposed a toast.

 

“To your programs.  Also, to three months,” Viktor said happily.  They’d been training and working through Yuuri’s recovery and through all of that even though Yuuri had lost count Viktor had still been counting each day as a victory.

 

Three months recovered, and Yuuri had carved himself a little peace out of all the struggling.

 

As Viktor tenderly caressed his cheek to kiss him later that night, the feeling of his hand against Yuuri’s face sent a jolt through him.  He remembered sitting on that cliff and praying that he would get to be touched like this again.

 

It was worth it, then.

 

It was always worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been an pleasure, y'all. 
> 
> If you like this, check out some of my other fics!


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